Witches of The Concave

To reach The Concave is typically not a goal. However, beyond the Gates of Deepest Slumber lies a new arousal.

Why would a good dreamer need the real world? When you have imagination at your beck and call, quite anything is possible. In your previous life you were often called a day-dreamer, though you did it at night as well. Sitting in a half sleep, half trance, mesmerized by the images conjured from, seemingly, your own mind. You found worlds to explore and they were never-ending. Near the end of your previous era, you were less in the Real World and more in self-created illusions, some might say delusions. Last night, you had the most vivid dream of them all. You found what you had been seeking your entire life for...

What was it? If only you knew. Somehow the dreams changed, and you with them. Light and brightness replaced by blue smoke and the stench of bile. You awoke on the Other Side, different than you once were. That didn't matter, though. You could feel darkness in your blood, as if you were made of perpetual night and wisps of dreaming. The Hag before you, a gluttonous mass of overstretched flesh and weeping sores, gave a grotesque smile at its new child...

Welcome to The Concave.

Witches of The Concave

Witches are just like the others. They belong here. It is said that they dreamed too deeply one night, and woke up on The Other Side of the world, The Concave. Dreams are an odd thing. The best ones we barely remember, little more than a lingering emotion. I've heard that Witches are good at dreaming, they do it as a profession, almost. Their misshapen mounts are dream-spun beasts, each unique to The Witch who conjured it from the Fogs of Rigor. Yes, they do seem to have some control over the mist that dreads most others.

Witches are gaunt and frail looking, they wear tattered clothes and have wild tangles of wiry black and silver hair. There are a number of Covens that don't get along. Their differences are seemingly petty or non-existing to the rest of us, but they hold them dearly. Dearly enough to shed their black blood in amazing wars of dark magic and primeval sorcery.

Witches are singular of mind and focus, intent of fulfilling their self-proclaimed prophecy in order to reach that last dream once more. Each Witch is born into a Coven, a group birthed from the gullet of the same Hag with similar ideas in mind.

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A friendly human hunter has a talk with you about what you are doing here, and how is the weather. He advises you to not disturb the animals, tend to any fire you set, etc. This is actually a werewolf checking his territory, and if you are not to his liking, he may ambush you with his pack later.